My wife was meant to have her operation this morning, then maybe in the afternoon, then first thing this morning after all, so I got a call from the surgeon about 10:30 to say it had all gone fine, but that she would be out of her head on medication for a while, so it wasn’t until almost 1pm that I got to see her. (That’s also because it took me half an hour to navigate the labyrinth that is Swedish First Hill.)
Thankfully, she’s in less pain than for the last ten days, and although there’s a second procedure tomorrow morning, she should be home that same day.
The kids are as unfazed as ever; they got to hang out with their friends after school, then go ice skating, and then I took them to Red Robin for dinner, where they discovered the joy of computer games at the table (bad) and vanilla malts (bottomless, possibly a bad lifestyle decision).
The only surprise for them was when La Serpiente mentioned what a good thing a malt is, and how she wanted my wife to enjoy one, and I had to point out that the lack of a gall bladder might curtail consumption of fatty food. "But how long before she gets a new one?" my daughter asked. Oh, my sweet child.